(no subject)

Aziraphael has never particularly liked ships.

It's the dull sound of his feet on metal, the reminder that he's entirely surrounded by it - no chance of popping outside for a quick cup of tea in the sunshine. For that matter, it's the lack of sunshine, and windows, and doors that don't slide.

It's the awareness of being entirely dependent on someone else; and he's met Wash. He knows precisely whose blood runs through those veins, which frankly isn't the least bit reassuring. Then again, it reminds him of the Bentley - the original one - and the feeling he always used to get that he was at the mercy of a madman.

(This should not be, in some odd way, comforting.)

It's the taste of recycled air and the lack of dust. It's the lack of anything superfluous, in actual fact, which is why the sign on Kaylee's door gives him pause, for a moment, a smile spreading across his face.

Ships do, of course, have their good points.

(no subject)

Aziraphael dutifully left everything switched on; he suspects that Kaylee can be quite formidable, if riled. Now he's wandering down the corridor, lost in thought, pinching his bottom lip - when he reaches Kaylee's door it seems like the next logical progression in his train of thought to stop and knock on it.

He hasn't exactly thought about what he's going to say.